


Kala Mai Iaʻu

by madeofbees



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Danny is pissed, Episode: s06e25 O Ke Ali'i Wale No Ka'u Makemake (My Desire is Only for the Chief), M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Steve eventually gets his act together, Steve is dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeofbees/pseuds/madeofbees
Summary: Following the events of the season six finale in which Danny gives Steve half his liver and Steve berates him for it. Steve realizes just how much he messed up, and tries to make amends. Pre-relationship but still shippy.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett & Danny "Danno" Williams, Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 15
Kudos: 156





	Kala Mai Iaʻu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SuOliveira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuOliveira/gifts).



> A last minute Christmas gift for my wife :)

It started—

Well, Steve didn’t know how it started, not really, since he was busy bleeding out in a cargo plane, and wasn’t all that cognizant of what was happening around him. Then he was in surgery, and obviously wasn’t conscious when Danny donated half his liver, and that was followed by a pain-killer induced haze, so Steve wasn’t even sure what exactly the middle was, either.

A week in, he had a fairly solid grasp on the situation. Danny had saved his life—again—and didn’t feel like he was getting enough recognition for it. That was fairly standard, Steve thought, because Danny liked to complain, and Steve liked to do stupid, over-the-top bullshit that got everyone talking. It was just how their relationship went.

Or so he’d thought.

After the impromptu Congrats On Not Dying Again party, Steve fell into comfortable the comfortable banter he always had with Danny, and yeah, he joked about how it wasn’t conducive to his healing, but of course it was. Everything about Danny was, because nobody put him back together the way Danny did. Which, obviously, was not something he was going to _tell_ Danny, but he figured it went unspoken.

But then Danny said that Steve wouldn’t give him part of his liver, and it had hurt. A lot. More than it should’ve, more than Danny probably meant. Because of _course_ he’d give Danny half his liver, he’d give him anything, and he thought Danny knew that. How could Danny possibly think anything else? And yeah, maybe he hadn’t saved his life up in the plane, he’d thrown that out without thinking, but fuck, Danny could take his beating heart and Steve would hand it over with a smile and a snarky comment.

Or just his heart, but Danny didn’t need to know that.

Maybe Steve shouldn’t have mentioned Charlie, but it had slipped out.

_You give him time, he’s gonna grow up to hate you just as much as I do._

It was stupid, but Steve wasn’t feeling very charitable, and Danny was the one who’d brought him up in the first place. He’d snapped back, and yeah, it was a little beyond snarky, but it wasn’t _that_ bad. He’d said worse, he was sure.

The sound of Danny drawing the curtain between their beds echoed through Steve’s head on repeat, hadn’t stopped since that moment. Every time he thought about it, his stomach clenched unpleasantly and guilt gnawed at the back of his mind, and since he couldn’t stop thinking about it, that was just his life now, feeling shitty 24/7 over something that shouldn’t have been anything.

Danny had been discharged before Steve, which made sense, given that he hadn’t been shot. He’d left the day after the party, and instead of his usual post-serious-injury routine of sleeping in a chair next to Steve’s bed until he was better, he hadn’t come back. Steve tried to tell himself it was because Danny was recovering too, that he was on bedrest and needed to take care of himself, but that was bullshit, at least partially. He responded to texts with one or two monosyllabic answers, asked after Steve only in the most general of ways, and rarely initiated contact.

Steve, he was realizing, had seriously fucked up.

Two days after Danny’s departure, Steve got to go home. Kono showed up with a giant trash bag for all the wilted flowers and chocolate he wasn’t allowed to eat, and it was easy enough to tell that she was holding something back. Steve waited until they were in her car before blurting out:

“What is it?”

Kono gave him an incredulous glare before turning back to the road, and that was impressive, how she managed are-you-fucking-kidding-me and you’re-a-horrible-person all at once.

“Brah, seriously?”

Steve shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position while avoiding her death stare. “Is Danny okay?” he asked, which was stupid, he knew he was, but what if…

“Physically, he’s fine. Doing his PT, keeping mobile—”

“I thought he was supposed to be on bedrest,” Steve interrupted, because Danny hadn’t been letting him micromanage his recovery, and he didn’t like it, didn’t like getting secondhand news from Kono. “What d’you mean, he’s mobile, he should be lying down and resting. Recovering.”

“Yeah, that’s why he was in the hospital for a week,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a small child. “He has a nurse helping out a few hours a day, and we’ve been trading off bringing him dinner, but he’s doing really well.” She let out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan, and asked, “Why am I not surprised you don’t know this?”

“I know things,” Steve muttered, which was such an obvious lie that it didn’t warrant a response. “You—you said physically, what—”

“No,” Kono interrupted. “I am not doing this with you. I don’t know what you said to him, but I’m not an idiot. You went too far, poked fun at something you shouldn’t have, never apologized, and now you want me to give you instructions on how to fix it. You’re a grown man, Steve. Buck up.”

Steve found he didn’t have anything to say to that, and for one in his life, he kept his mouth shut. He spent the ride oscillating between reassuring himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong and Danny was overreacting, and trying to figure out how to apologize and make it up to him, and he was so lost in thought he didn’t notice the Camaro in his driveway until Kono parked on the street in front of his house.

“What—”

“Turns out the department only covers a nurse for one of you, and since you both almost died this time, Danny’s been staying at your place,” Kono supplied. She gave him another Look, and Steve turned all of his attention to unbuckling himself so he didn’t have to see her face when she added, “He didn’t tell you?”

“Probably hoped it was a fever dream,” Steve said, trying for levity and coming nowhere close. “This nurse, she’s been in my house? Without me?” Because that was obviously more important than the fact that _Danny_ had been living in his house and he’d had no idea.

“Calm down, she’s very nice,” Kono said patiently. “Her name is Mahina and you’re going to treat her with kindness and respect and under no circumstances will you yell at her for making you take care of yourself, understand?”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve tried a small smile, which Kono returned, albeit somewhat exasperatedly.

“Come on, let’s get you settled. She won’t be back until tomorrow.”

Steve was, in fact, somewhat wary of a stranger spending so much time in his home, but nothing seemed horribly amiss. There were two yoga mats rolled up next to a small pile of resistance bands on the floor next to the couch, but other than that, everything looked pretty much how he left it. No sign of Danny, and he wasn’t willing to ask Kono where he was, so he let her help him up the stairs and unpack his hospital bag without saying anything. He settled into bed, and she brought him a glass of lemonade, which was a lot nicer than she needed to be, and squeezed his shoulder.

“Just talk to him,” she said softly. “Apologize. I know you know how.”

Steve grunted some sort of affirmative, offered a quick thank you, and closed his eyes. He waited until he heard the front door close behind her before grabbing his phone.

[To: Danno] Where are you?

There wasn’t an immediate response, so Steve turned on the small TV he’d bought after the last time he’d been stuck in bed following a bad case, and flipped mindlessly through the stations, not really registering the images that flashed across the screen.

After what seemed like years, his phone beeped, and he dropped the remote in his haste to grab it.

[From: Danno] Think you’ve figured that out by now.

Steve let out a deep breath. _How could he not tell me?_ But, as much as it hurt, he forced himself to send a more thoughtful reply.

[To: Danno] Guest room?

This time he only had to wait a few seconds for a response.

[From: Danno] Brilliant detective work.

Steve couldn’t tell if that was their usual banter, or if Danny was being short with him, or if his goofy thumbs got goofier when he was on pain meds, or if a thousand different thoughts flying through his head. He forced himself to focus and typed out:

[To: Danno] There’s a TV in my room.

Again, Danny replied quickly, although Steve would’ve rather a long wait and a different answer.

[From: Danno] I’m good. Gonna take a nap.

Steve winced, and put his phone down. He needed to fix this, the sooner the better, but Danny clearly wanted to be left alone, and so he would, at least for now. The TV was on some stupid house-flipping show, but Steve discovered he couldn’t lean over far enough to retrieve the remote from where it had fallen on the floor, so he settled back, trying to lose himself in real estate.

The next thing he knew, Kamekona was in his room, waking him up with a platter of shrimp. Steve briefly wondered when he’d gotten a key before deciding not to antagonize the man bringing him dinner.

“Good to see you home, brah,” Kamekona said, setting two large takeout bags on his bed. “It didn’t sit right, seeing Danny all alone.”

“We’re not exactly in the same place,” Steve grumbled, reaching for the food only to have his hand slapped away. He stared at Kamekona. “What the hell?”

“Shrimp is for both of you, I don’t want you eating it all before Danny gets any,” he said. “I know how much you love my food and how quickly it’ll disappear if you start now.”

Steve glared at him. “Then take Danny’s to his room.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Kamekona said, nearly trilling with glee. “You’ll eat together, like partners do. I already woke up Danny, he’ll be here any second.”

“Couldn’t wait two whole seconds for me, huh?” Danny’s voice drifted in from the hallway, and then he was leaning against the doorway, cane in one hand, and Steve’s heart lurched at seeing him in pain, but it wasn’t like he could help. “I’m here, I’m here. Thanks, Kame. You can go.”

“No problem, brah. Eat up.” He gave a small salute that had Steve rolling his eyes and left. Danny stayed where he was, propped up in the doorway, looking at Steve with an expression he couldn’t place, and Steve found himself fighting against the urge to look away, to break eye contact.

“Well, come on,” he said eventually, patting the bed. “Dinner is served.”

Danny mumbled something under his breath that Steve didn’t catch, and didn’t feel like he should ask after. Instead, he divided up the food on paper plates Kamekona had supplied, and dug in, filling his mouth with food instead of apologies.

“Jesus, Steve. They stop feeding you when I left?” Danny asked, sitting on the very edge of the foot of the bed, as far from Steve as possible.

“Didn’t think you cared,” Steve said around a mouthful of shrimp, and whoops, that was the opposite of apologizing, antagonizing Danny. Even if it was comfortable and what they alwaysdid. Because it wasn’t, Danny was upset, and what he’d just said, that was out of line. Again.

“You’re an asshole,” Danny snapped. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be in my own house, and I wouldn’t have to watch you spit food all over the place while you insult me.”

Steve swallowed, nearly choking at his suddenly dry mouth.

“Danny—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he interrupted. “I’m here to eat, that’s it. I’ll be gone before you know it.”

 _That’s what I’m afraid of_ , Steve thought miserably. The clatter of the curtain closing rang out loud and clear, even if he was the only one who could hear it. They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Danny spoke up.

“Since when do you watch Fixer Upper?” he asked, and Steve could sense the beginning of a rant, and he’d never been more grateful. Danny waved at the TV with his fork-impaled shrimp. “This isn’t your style at all. Have you even heard of shiplap? This is so not you, why aren’t you watching some macho man, built from the ground up, building show? Your feminine side is showing, Steven.”

“What? Come on. I happen to like—” he glanced at the screen, trying to pull anything from the current renovation that he actually enjoyed because no, this wasn’t his type at all, but he wasn’t willing to admit he couldn’t reach the remote. “—bath tubs.”

Danny raised his eyebrows. “Really. You do. Since when, Mr. Three Minute Shower?”

“I can relax, sometimes. And since when do you know my architectural style?” Steve shot back, and this was good, how it should be. “I’m a man of many layers, I like a lot of things you might not expect.” And, because he was feeling generous, and it was at least in the same direction as an apology, he added, “I like you, after all.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Sure you do. You’re going to like me into an early grave, that’s what you’d like.”

Steve’s heart twisted, because that was a little closer to the issue than he’d been expecting. “Danny,” he tried again, and this time Danny didn’t stop him. “Danno, I’d do anything—”

“Stop,” Danny said sharply. “I’m sorry, it was my mistake thinking we could have a conversation that didn’t involve you going on and on about how great you are, forget it.” He tossed his half-empty plate on the bed and stood, leaning heavily on his cane. “The most generous man I’ve ever met, that’s what you are. Generously taking all the credit, generously insulting me after I give you my vital organs, generously reminding me how fucked up things are with Charlie, I didn’t know it was possible to be that generous.”

“Danny!” Steve exclaimed, scrambling to get up and not quite managing. Danny was already halfway to the door, and he was starting to panic, that things would never be okay between them again. “I’m sorry—”

“Sure you are,” Danny snarled. “Mahina gets here at eleven, try for just the tiniest amount of respect and be ready on time.”

Steve didn’t know what to say, so he let Danny leave without responding. A few seconds later he heard the door to the guest room slam shut, and he slammed his head back, vaguely grateful for the jolt of pain from hitting the headboard, knowing he deserved that and so much more. Gathering all his strength, he forced himself out of bed, ignoring the cane Kono had left for him, grabbed Danny’s plate, and hobbled to Danny’s door. He set it one the floor, grinding his teeth against the pain, and knocked once.

“Rest of your food’s here,” he told the door. And, part hopeful and part contrite, added, “See you in the morning.”

There was no response, and Steve went back to his room. He grabbed the remote off the floor and shut the TV off, too drained to focus on anything other than finishing his food as quickly as possible and going back to sleep.

He might have imagined it, but he thought he heard the creak of the guest room door opening and closing, and he smiled sadly. It wasn’t much, and Danny was probably just hungry, but it felt like the beginnings of a peace offering, and it had been accepted. It could always be worse.

That night was worse. Steve had nightmares from the moment he closed to his eyes to when he woke up, gasping, tangled in sweaty sheets, reaching for Danny, before remembering he wasn’t there. He was never there, they didn’t share a bed, but he’d watched Danny die over and over again, watched him walk away with steel in his eyes, watched as he lost the most important person in his life on repeat, and he _needed_.

His phone beeped, and he reached for it on autopilot, still trapped in his dreams.

[From: Danno] You having wet dreams about me in there?

Steve stared at the text in confusion. What? _What?_ He hadn’t, had he? No, of course not, it was nightmares all the way, so what on earth would make Danny think that? Apparently his lack of reply was reply enough, because another text followed the first.

[From: Danno] You were shouting my name.

Steve let out a pent up breath. Right, that made sense. Okay. He wasn’t going crazy. But he also wasn’t going to admit to anything, not when Danny was already so convinced he had to make everything about himself. He’d had nightmares before, including ones about Danny dying, and he was a big boy, he could take care of himself.

[To: Danno] Why don’t you come in and find out ;)

That might not have been the ideal text, but at least it wasn’t the truth. A voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was _lucky_ it wasn’t the truth, that it _had been_ the truth more times than he could count, but he pushed the thoughts aside. The middle of their biggest fight to date was _not_ the time to tell Danny he was in love with him.

Unless…

Steve shook himself. No. It wasn’t. That was idiotic.

[From: Danno] Neanderthal.

A small smile creeped onto Steve’s face. Normal, that was normal, everything was going to be okay. Never before or again would he be so happy to be called names. He put his phone back on the bedside table, shoved the sweaty sheets off the bed, covered himself with the duvet alone, and fell back asleep.

This time, his dreams weren’t nearly so haunted.

Any good mood Steve had from the midnight texts was gone by the time Mahina left the following afternoon. PT was awful, he hated it, and if he didn’t have Danny glaring at him every two seconds, he would’ve walked out, regardless of the fact that it was his own home. He tried to argue that he’d never done PT before and his body was just fine, but that only got Danny going again about how he needed to take care of his liver, and Steve wasn’t about to push it.

When the door finally closed behind Mahina, Steve collapsed onto the couch and put a game on without thinking. He was exhausted, in pain, on edge, and all he wanted was to zone out to a ballgame and maybe sneak a Longboard, although doing that without Danny noticing seemed too hard.

“Oh, so now you want to watch baseball,” Danny said, and there was an edge in his voice that hadn’t been there during PT, probably because Danny knew how to be a good patient and not offend Mahina, but Steve had been hoping that maybe some of the animosity had lessened overnight.

Steve tensed, keeping his eyes on the TV and not on Danny. “That okay with you?”

Danny sighed, and there was so much left unsaid in that one breath of air, and Steve wanted to scream. “Yeah. Whatever. It’s fine.” He sat on the opposite end of the couch, miles between them, and all Steve could think about was Halloween three years ago when Danny had cuddled against him while watching The Notebook of all things, and how he should’ve been pissed that sex with Catherine was interrupted but instead warmth had flooded through him and yeah, that might’ve been when he’d realized he’d been in love with his partner.

This afternoon couldn’t be farther from that night, and Steve had no idea what to do with the space between them. Usually if he was watching TV alone he’d kick his legs up on the couch, stretch out, but he wasn’t alone, and usually if he was with Danny they’d sit too close for partners or even friends, but they weren’t, and there was a football field between them that needed to be filled somehow, because this was awkward and uncomfortable and distracting to the point where Steve didn’t even know what teams were playing, let alone what the score was.

 _Fuck it_ , he thought to himself, and swung his legs onto the couch, feet resting (carefully, making sure not to touch his stomach) in Danny’s lap.

“Steve.”

Steve kept his eyes on the TV. “Yeah?”

“Steven.”

He risked a glance at Danny, who was looking at him with such a mix of exasperation and possibly, maybe, the affection that he usually had when Steve was being annoying, before turning back to the TV. “What’s up, babe?” he ventured, trying out the term of endearment for the first time since the transplant, since the plane when Danny thought he was dying.

“You—” Danny groaned. “Forget it.” He had one arm slung over the back of the couch and dropped it, resting a hand on one of Steve’s legs.

Steve licked his lips, watching baseball, definitely baseball, and what was he supposed to do with that, with Danny’s hand, warm and solid even through his jeans, and weren’t they fighting? Was this what people did when they fought, cuddled? It then occurred to Steve that he’d been the one to initiate contact, but that wasn’t the important part.

Maybe, he thought, it meant that Danny was in a calmer mood, more _generous_ , and now was a good time to talk.

“Danny?”

Danny groaned again, and it was kind of hot, and why why why was Steve having those thoughts now?

“What.”

“I’m sorry.”

Danny blinked, turned to look at him, and Steve was blushing, bright red, and he hadn’t meant to say it like that, come straight out with it, it wasn’t his style. Beat around the bush, use any words but those two, never admit he had done anything wrong, but this was a different sort of fight, longer and more serious, and Steve’s legs were in his lap, and he got confused.

Or maybe, maybe, he’d had a moment of clarity, and apologizing was a good thing.

“Okay,” Danny said. “Okay, you’re sorry, that’s good, that’s a step. But here’s the thing, I don’t know if you know _why_ you’re sorry or what you did that was just so very bad, and so I’m going to need more than that, an explanation, something.”

Steve had to fight not to roll his eyes. Why was it that Danny needed to talk everything to death? He’d just _apologized_ , with _words_ , and Danny needed more. Of course he did.

“Kids are off limits,” Steve said, sounding like he was reciting lessons, and maybe he shouldn’t have a tone in his voice just now but he couldn’t help it. “I can say all I want, tell you I hate you to the moon and back, but nothing about your kids.”

Danny’s hand tightened almost to the point of pain, and yeah, Steve had screwed up.

“No, that’s not—I mean yes, you’re right, that’s true, you don’t make fun of my kids or bring them into our little—” He waved between them. “—whatever this is, but that isn’t the point, not right now. Either apologize right or shut your mouth. Preferably forever.”

Steve sat up properly, taking his legs back, turning so he was fully facing Danny, crosslegged. “I’m sorry, really.” He made sure Danny was looking at him, that they were making eye contact, before continuing. “I know your relationship with Charlie is complicated, and I know how much he means to you, and I never should’ve said something like that, not about him. He’s a good kid, and you’re a good dad, and he’s never gonna hate you. Not him, not Grace, not me, no one. You’re—” He cleared his throat. “You’re pretty great, y’know.”

Danny looked like he was going to punch him, or maybe burst out laughing. In other words, normal, like how he always looked at him. “You’re an idiot,” he said and yeah, they were good.

Steve shrugged, smiling. “Yeah, well.” He stretched back out, and Danny let him with no complaint, hand back where it had been. He waited until Danny was looking back at the TV, absorbed in the game, and quietly added, “Thanks for the liver.”

Danny just petted his leg, and that was good, enough. Steve finally relaxed, for the first time in what felt like years, and went back to the game.

**Author's Note:**

> There will possibly be a part two in which they get together? Idk, I wrote this whole thing last night in time for Christmas and I wanted them to get together in this installment but I ran out of time. I'm still having carpal tunnel (and other painful) issues so typing isn't the best. But I'll try.


End file.
